


Wyvern

by okapi



Series: HC SVNT DRACONES [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cunnilingus, Dragons, F/F, Fem!Lestrade, Fem!mycroft, Genderswap, Interspecies Sex, Male!Anthea, Mycroft kills a few Bad Guys, Other, Vaginal Fisting, Vaginal Sex, Wyvern - Freeform, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2633888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft returns to a childhood haunt to take care of family business. An unexpected bequest leads to a magical night for her and Lestrade. </p><p>Fem!Mystrade transforming to Wyvern!Mycroft/human!Lestrade. Wyvern is a type of two-legged dragon. Inspired by the Bad Dragon product <a href="http://bad-dragon.com/products/terra">Terra the Amazon Wyvern</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some references & overlap with [Dragon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2536691), but this can be read alone.
> 
> A few notes on Lestrade in my AU for new readers. One, her name. The author and Sherlock and John, when she's speaking about her, call her 'Lestrade.' Her full name is Mary Margaret Lestrade. 'Greg' is a nickname that John uses when speaking to her (the name backstory for 'Greg' and 'John' is [Friends Forever](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1248886)). Mycroft calls her Detective Inspector in public and 'Gregory' in moments of intimacy (background on that is [Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1601384/chapters/3453890) of [Night In/Night Out](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1601384/chapters/3407897)) because I agree with the most of the Mystrade world that Mycroft would use the most formal terms possible, in any situation. She's my big girl, my curvy one. John is sort of my own bruised pear shape, but I like to think of Lestrade as truly voluptuous, which, of course, Mycroft eats up with a spoon.
> 
> Mummy Holmes is always the spectre at the feast with my poor Mycroft.

“You can add more.”

Lestrade touched Mycroft’s wrist. Both were damp with perspiration and breathing heavy, naked limbs entangled. Mycroft stopped her ministrations abruptly and looked down at her hand, four fingers deep into Lestrade’s cunt.

Lestrade’s eyes flew open and she stammered, “I mean, if you want to, of course. I mean you’re already sort of...just if you want to. If you don’t, that’s fine. It’s not something... _Christ_...”

Mycroft pulled her fingers out slowly and gently. She whispered—even more slowly and gently—“Perhaps, another time?”

“Right, right, of course, another time,” Lestrade shifted her legs and schooled her voice into a casual tone, “Just think about it and let me know, in person, or...um...on the phone, not text, especially on the work phone, why would you text me about fisting on the work phone? Right, well done, Lestrade, two plates of mood-killer with a side of mortification, please. Verbal diarrhoea, got anything for that?”

Mycroft smiled. “Yes,” she said evenly and proceeded to snog Lestrade speechless.

* * *

“I am afraid I have to cancel our engagement for tomorrow evening.”

“Not a problem,” said Lestrade, looking at the stacks of case files on her desk. “Maybe Donovan can take Anderson. Or his wife.” Lestrade closed a file and laid it on top of the smallest pile. “Am I allowed to know where the crisis du jour is?”

Silence.

“It’s...personal.”

More silence.

“Are you ill?”

“No, no. The Holmes trust owns property in Wales, a small cottage house on a sizable amount of land. A caretaker and his wife had been with the family the whole of their considerably long lives—“

“Had?”

“Yes, I received notice yesterday that they both died. I spent quite a bit of time there as a child, both before and after Sherlock’s birth, and am planning a visit to collect any items of value and assess the property for sale.”

“Not something you’d delegate to a minion?”

“No. Anthea’s arranging for the rental of a lorry and packing materials to transport any furniture or other pieces of interest, but it’s something I want to take care of myself. And pay my respects, of course.”

“You liked this old couple.”

“Yes. They were kind, kind to my...well, kind to my family.”

“Hauling furniture, sorting through dusty boxes, sounds like a two-person job. Leaving tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Lestrade took a deep breath. “Care for any company? My weekend off.” She bit her lip.

“Lovely. Eight o’clock?”

“I’ll be ready.”

Lestrade stared at her phone. “This will be interesting.”

* * *

Lestrade opened her eyes. “Mycroft?”

“Hmm?” Lestrade looked behind her. Mycroft was in the back seat, typing on a tablet, earbud in one ear.

“Are you _working_? How long have we been parked here?” A small house was in the distance.

“Three hours.”

“ _Christ_. You should have woke me.”

“Nonsense. It’s your weekend off and judging by the amount of paperwork that you completed yesterday evening to ensure that you _had_ the weekend off, you’re in danger of developing a migraine if you don’t rest.”

Lestrade surveyed the landscape through the window then looked over her shoulder.

“You have a signal out here?”

“I always have a signal. Drives Sherlock mad.” Mycroft smiled as she shut off the device. She got out and opened Lestrade’s door. “Shall I give you the grand tour?” She extended a hand.

“Grounds first, please, I want to get London out of my lungs.” Mycroft squeezed Lestrade’s hand as she eased out of the lorry.

“This way.”

* * *

“So farther in that direction is a cave where we used to play as children. I actually tried to lose Sherlock there on more than one occasion—unsuccessfully, of course. And this,” Mycroft knocked the wooden wall, “is what was called the long barn, now just a repository for unused items, junk. One of the objectives of this excursion is to sort through things: things to be discarded, things to stay with the house, and—a minority—of things to return to London, either for resale or safe-keeping. I want to tackle the long barn and the attic this weekend.”

“Sounds like a plan. Shall we unpack and get to it?”

“Let’s.”

“I was afraid that ‘small country house’ was Holmesian for ‘castle,’ but it is actually a small country house. Charming,” said Lestrade, looking down the scope of a rifle. “We are in the country, though, aren’t we? Guess that this far from civilization, you have to be your own law enforcement.” She returned the weapon to the gun closet and closed the doors.

“Thank goodness I brought mine.”

In the kitchen, they found a small parcel wrapped in brown paper on the counter, addressed to Mycroft in London. Mycroft turned it over, examining all sides. Then, she placed it on the mantel in the sitting room.

“You’re not going to open it!”

“Later,” said Mycroft in a tone that brokered no further discussion.

Lestrade huffed, but then looked around the room and said, “Alright, let’s see what Anthea packed for us.”

“A veritable cornucopia of provisions, I’m assured.”

Lestrade giggled.

Mycroft turned with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, there’s enough food for an army...”

“Yes...”

“...and the usual: torches, extra batteries, first aid supplies...”

“...yes...”

“...and then we have...night–vision binoculars and Earl Grey flavoured lubricant!” Lestrade laughed until tears pooled in her eyes. “What does your PA think we get up to? Christ, what _can_ we get up to?!”

Mycroft reached for her mobile, tapping the screen angrily with her thumb. “A reminder to have a word with him with upon my return. Re: infernal cheek. I suggest we get to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lestrade, stifling further laughter.

* * *

“My favourite find so far. Look! Even I fit.” Lestrade straddled the wagon and lowered herself into it, folding her legs inside. “Little Mycroft, little Sherlock, and a picnic basket.”

Mycroft smiled, but said, “Discard.” Lestrade pouted.

They had moved to the attic when Lestrade exclaimed, “Oh, no, I was wrong earlier. This, this has to be my favourite. Oh, please, may I keep them?!” Lestrade donned the leather helmet and fastened the strap under her chin. Then she added the aviator goggles. “Mary Margaret Lestrade, Flying Ace!”

"My grandfather’s. Yes, you may keep them.”

"This one looks like...,” Lestrade opened the box, “...old photographs. You’ll have to sort through that yourself. You want to do that here or take the whole thing back to London?”

“Set it over there for the moment. If time allows, I’ll go through them here.”

“Alright,” said Lestrade, lifting the box. She stumbled, and the box toppled from her arms, photographs spilling. “Shite!” Mycroft approached, but Lestrade shooed her away. “I’m fine. Just a mess.” She squat and began scooping up the photographs and dropping them back into the box. “Mycroft.” Lestrade stared at one photograph. “This is you! Your birthday!”

“Yes, I was...seven.”

“You look so...happy. Adorable.”

“Those were halcyon days—Sherlock had not yet emerged to wreak havoc with my existence.”

“And this is the old couple, the ones who lived here. They look kind.”

“They were. Quite.”

“So who took the photo?” asked Lestrade. Mycroft turned away and resumed her sorting. Lestrade shrugged and turned the photograph over, reading the back side.

“Mycroft! This was taken was _on_ your birthday?”

Mycroft nodded.

“So it’s tomorrow!” Lestrade stood up. “You silly thing! Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve...”

“My Dear, I haven’t celebrated a birthday in decades and probably not happily since that photograph was taken. It’s of absolutely no consequence to me; it shouldn’t be to you either.”

“Mycroft,” Lestrade’s face and tone fell. She deposited the remaining photographs back in the box. Then she approached Mycroft slowly, wrapping her arms around her waist. Mycroft stilled and leaned back slightly into the embrace.

“If I can find what I need, would you accept a birthday cake? If it were baked with heaps of love—and sugar?” Lestrade rested her cheek on Mycroft’s back and let the silent war of emotions play out inside her companion. After a few long moment, Mycroft looked over her shoulder and whispered,

“Yes.”

Lestrade squealed and hurried down the ladder.

* * *

Lestrade woke alone. She looked at her mobile. “After midnight. Probably working, but let’s investigate, Detective Inspector.”

“Mycroft?” Lestrade padded to the kitchen in her nightgown. She shivered at the cold draft. The front door was wide open. “Mycroft?” Lestrade moved to the doorway and looked out. Ripped brown paper and small box—more like a tiny trunk—was overturned on the ground just outside the threshold.

Two red eyes appeared in the darkness.

Lestrade screamed and slammed the door. She flew to the gun closet and returned to the door, rifle in hand.

She opened the door just wide enough to poke the muzzle out. She aimed for the centre of the eyes.

**_Gregory, don’t shoot._ **

“Mycroft? Are you hurt? Did it attack you?”

**_Gregory, it’s me. I’m fine...well, not precisely fine, but..._ **

Lestrade pushed the door wider. The red eyes got larger, and she held the rifle steady, finger on trigger.

**_I will not strike you, Gregory. Nor will I find fault with you, should you choose to shoot me._ **

What emerged into the light was a large lizard-like head covered in red scales and crowned with two horns. It closed its red eyes and bowed to the ground in a feral gesture of surrender.

Lestrade stood frozen.

Head still bowed, the creature’s eyes turned upwards to Lestrade, and the expression on its face was so familiar, so instantly recognizable, that she lowered the rifle.

“Mycroft? How? How?”

**_I don’t know. I did a little work and then decided to make myself a cup of tea. I saw the parcel and decided to deal with it. I unwrapped it and opened the box. I felt suddenly ill and loss consciousness. When I regained consciousness, I found myself outside, in this form._ **

Mycroft turned so that Lestrade could see her entire scaled body, two large bat-like wings, two sharp-clawed feet, and long tail.

“You’re a dragon!”

**_Technically, I’m a wyvern._ **

“A what?”

“I have only two legs.” She held up each.

“And a...”

**_Cock, yes._ **

“This must be a dream,” mumbled Lestrade.

**_If it is, we are sharing it. And the manifestations are remarkably concrete._ **

Mycroft angled herself away from Lestrade and the house. Suddenly, the night was lit up with torrents of fire emanating from Mycroft’s mouth.

“Christ! You’re a fire-breathing dra—“

**_Wyvern_ **

“Does it fucking matter?!” exclaimed Lestrade; she crumpled to the floor. “I’m sorry. It’s just a bit much to take in. What was in the box?”

**_Look and see._ **

Lestrade crawled to the box and turned it over. A heavy gold circle with attached chain lay on the ground.

“A pocket watch?”

**_Yes. The old caretaker showed it to me once when I was a child. It was given to him when he was just a child by my grandfather._ **

Lestrade rubbed the top with the edge of her nightgown sleeve. “There’s a dra—wyvern on the cover. Holmes family crest?”

 ** _None of this_** , Mycroft nodded to the world behind her, **_was Holmes until me—and Sherlock._**

“Ah, that explains almost everything. These stones, are they...?”

**_Rubies._ **

Lestrade whistled. She opened the watch. “If the outside is rubies, then these are...”

**_Diamonds._ **

“There’s an inscription: HC SVNT DRACONES.”

**_‘Here be dragons.’ A phrase found on the Lenox Globe, one of the oldest terrestrial globes ever recovered, used to indicate what is today the island of Sumatra. Might refer to Komodo dragons found there._ **

“Kind of an odd thing to put on a watch, don’t you think? But maybe it’s got some sort of... _Christ, I can’t believe I’m even saying this aloud_...curse attached to it. Maybe that’s why you...look kind of like _this_.” Lestrade pointed to the lid of the watch.

**_There has to be a connection. Whether my grandfather had it made or it was given to him by someone, I don’t know. There was never any talk of it. Worth doing a bit of research, of course, if I ever return to human form._ **

Lestrade took a deep breath. “Mycroft, these gems...the age...this watch is worth a fortune.”

**_Yes, it’s of great historical as well as market value._ **

“Was there anything with it?”

**_It was just a simple note from the caretaker, saying that he wanted me to have this family heirloom on the occasion of my..._ **

“Birthday.”

**_Yes._ **

“May I?” Lestrade reached for the letter.

**_By all means._ **

Lestrade read the letter and found it to be exactly as Mycroft had said. She let it drop from her hand.

“He was just going to send it in the regular post, something of this great value? And he died before he could mail it.” Mycroft nodded; Lestrade shook her head. “So now what?”

**_Well, the house can’t accommodate my size so I plan to sleep outside, and you can return..._ **

“If you think, one, that I’m going to abandon you in your current state, and two, that I can sleep after all this, then you are barking, or whatever it is wyverns do.”

Mycroft smiled to reveal razor-sharp teeth and black gums.

“What do _you_ want to do?”

Mycroft tilted her head in a thoughtful posture.

**_Swim._ **

Lestrade laughed. “How far are we from the coast?”

 ** _Transportation is not an issue._** Mycroft flapped her wings.

“Oh, no! I’m not going to ride you. No. I hate flying.”

**_Go put on the warmest clothes that you have, as many layers as possible, and then I’ll tell you what to do..._ **

“Mycroft...”

**_Gregory, it’s my birthday._ **

“Oh, Lord,” said Lestrade. “ _Now_ you want to start celebrating.”

* * *

Some thirty minutes later, Lestrade donned a woolly cap on top of the leather helmet. Then she put her aviator goggles in place and gave Mycroft a thumbs-up. She was sitting in the wagon, which had been strapped with rope. A bag of supplies was at her back; the watch was in her pocket.

Suddenly, the rope was being pulled taut, and the wagon was lifting off the ground.

Lestrade closed her eyes and gripped the sides tightly. She was sure that she did not exhale until they reached the beach. Her feet were wobbly. She felt a webbed wing at her back.

**_Are you alright, my Dear?_ **

“Yes,” said Lestrade weakly. “I’ve never prayed so hard in my life.”

**_You are magnificent. Truly._ **

Lestrade gave a weak smile. “Where are we?”

**_As far away from human eyes as I can fathom._ **

“Swim. I’m going to find a nook and enjoy the ground under my feet and watch you.”

Mycroft nodded and trotted toward the crashing waves.

Lestrade settled herself against a rock. With the night-vision binoculars, she could make out Mycroft’s form bobbing in the tumultuous sea, marked by bursts of spray and flashes of tail.

“Glad she’s having fun. It is her birthday, after all.”

Lestrade watched Mycroft; then she closed her eyes and nodded off. When she opened them, Mycroft was still frolicking in the sea. Lestrade scanned further down the shore. She saw a boat in the distance.

“I hope they’re not coming this way. This is how Loch Ness monster myths are born.” The light seemed to get closer and then vanished. “That’s strange. Let’s get a better look.” Lestrade took the binoculars and headed toward the boat. Just then, a lorry pulled up. “No lights either.” Lestrade got closer. The boat came ashore, and several men hopped out. They began unloading boxes from the boat. “What do you want a bet that someone is smuggling something?” Lestrade took out her mobile. “Of course, no signal. I’m just a lowly Detective Inspector, not the British Government. But, if I get close enough to get the lorry plate number, then I can get Wyvern Air to fly me to the nearest station.” Lestrade focused on the lorry. She stumbled on the rocks with an “Oof!” She lowered the binoculars so they hung around her neck.

_Well done, Detective Inspector._

“Oy, who’s that?!” called a voice.

_Nothing for it now._

Lestrade hoisted herself up and yelled, “Stop! Police!”

Suddenly, angry shouts erupted. Shots rang out.

Lestrade fell flat to the rocks, scraping her face. “Christ!”

Lestrade heard a loud crash of waves, a ferocious growl, and more men’s voices—this time, shrieking in terror. There was the whirl of tires against sand. Lestrade peeked up to see Mycroft blowing fire at the lorry, which exploded into flames. Fire soon engulfed the boat as well. Mycroft moved from one man to another, tearing apart what was left of their charred remains.

“Mycroft!” cried Lestrade.

**_Gregory, you’re hurt! You’re bleeding!_ **

“I fell on the rocks. What are you doing? I was going to call it in! Now, we’ll never know who they work for and who they work with and the proper authorities can’t intervene...!” Lestrade cried angrily. “All because...”

Mycroft’s claws cut through one of the burning crates. **_Drugs._** Then she whipped around to face Lestrade, red eyes gleaming. **_They shot at you! You could’ve been killed! At the moment, I have the capacity to ensure their immediate annihilation and am supremely motivated to do so._** With her tail, Mycroft swept the ashes into the waning tide. **_If you wouldn’t go rushing into danger..._**

“’Rushing into danger’! Save your patronizing lecture! Need I remind you of my chosen profession? I rush into danger every day. I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need to be rescued _from_ or _by_ any mythical beast!”

 ** _Yes, you were doing a splendid job taking care of yourself. Isn’t calling for back-up standard procedure?!_** Mycroft’s lips curled to a snarl; smoke puffed from her nostrils; her tail thrashed.

“I was going to call for back-up, when you popped out of the water and _incinerated_ them!”

**_Were that I could do worse._ **

Mycroft’s face softened. **_You’re not afraid of me._**

“Not as a human, not as a wyvern.” Lestrade approached Mycroft’s snout and punched on the nose. “Are you going to _eat_ me?”

 ** _Not quite. Hold still._** Mycroft dragged her tongue over Lestrade’s face, touching each abrasion. Lestrade felt a sharp sting—like antiseptic—and then nothing. She touched her face. It was smooth and soft. Her jaw fell open.

**_Wyvern saliva has healing properties for their...companions._ **

“Well, that’s kind of amazing. Alright, my Magical Autoclave, as much as pains me to say, remove all trace of us from the crime scene and let’s get out of here. Know somewhere we can hide?”

**_Yes._ **


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft curled the very tip of her tail around the wagon handle and pulled Lestrade across the threshold of the cave. She stopped.

**_Ugh! Ugh!_ **

“What?”

**_O the horror! It smells...foul. Worse than foul._ **

Lestrade sniffed. “What? A dead animal? I can’t smell anything.”

**_Doubtful that even the sharpest human nose could detect an odour of this kind._ **

“What do you smell?”

**_Sherlock._ **

“Sherlock! You played here as children. You can smell her after all this time?”

**_No, this is...Well, I must file it for later reflection..._ **

“Mycroft, what is going on?”

**_Please remain here until I return._ **

“Mycroft!”

**_I want to, for lack of a better word, fumigate this space. It’s a process that would be most toxic for you. Wait over there, on the lee-side of those stones. I won’t be long._ **

“Okay. But hurry back.”

* * *

Mycroft followed the smell farther into the cave. She winced when she past the remnants of a campfire.

**_Always eschewing quality for quantity, Sister Dear._ **

She stopped when she reached a lagoon.

 ** _Alright, you stopped here._** She sniffed. ** _As...dragon...and as human too...John, too, more briefly. What is that?_** Mycroft dove into the lagoon. She opened her eyes when she reached the floor.

 ** _Ah, twelve coins. So that’s your hoard. Interesting. Where did you come by these? Case, of course._** She flipped one over with her foot. She memorized the design and details. **_Something to follow-up on when and if I return to my original state—with memories of this experience intact. But I shan’t disturb them today. Your hoard is safe for now, Sister Dear._**

Mycroft scrambled back onto the bank and shook herself dry. Then, she marched slowly and purposefully to the entrance of the cave, blowing smoke on the entire surface, floor and ceiling, rubbing her scaly sides against the cave walls. She trotted back to the lagoon and made a second pass, waving her wings to push the smoke along. When she was satisfied that the air was both clean and Sherlock-free, she returned to Lestrade.

**_Ready._ **

By the light of an electric lantern hung on Mycroft’s upturned tail, Lestrade followed her into the cave, pulling the wagon. They passed the remnants of a campfire.

“Looks like someone has been here, fairly recently. You think it was Sherlock?”

**_Possibly. There’s a more attractive spot further along if you’re amenable to a slightly longer stroll._ **

“Lead on.”

Mycroft did.

* * *

When they turned the corner, Lestrade exclaimed.

“Oh, Mycroft! It’s beautiful. Let’s sit here by the water.”

Minutes later they were curled facing each other, Lestrade’s head resting on Mycroft’s tail. Lestrade was wrapped in a blanket.

**_Are you cold?_ **

Lestrade shook her head. She removed the woolly cap and leather helmet and ruffled her short, auburn hair. “Even if I weren’t wearing about seventeen layers of clothing, you are a furnace.” Lestrade rubbed Mycroft’s belly. “Not really a reptile.”

**_No, more of a fire-drake. It bears repeating, my Dear, you are magnificent. To take this...change of events...in such stride._ **

“Mycroft, you are slightly surreal even in your human form, what with your supercomputer brain and your all-seeing eyes. This isn’t _such_ a stretch of the imagination. It helps that I can still see the woman inside the beast.” Lestrade reached to caress Mycroft’s face. At her touch, Mycroft curled her upper body closer and closed her eyes. Lestrade traced the features of Mycroft’s face and head. “You’re beautiful. And the red takes on a gold colour when you blush. Quite regal. These are formidable.” Lestrade pressed the pad of her finger to the tip of one of Mycroft’s horns. Lestrade moved to Mycroft’s neck and pressed her lips against it. She watched the gold lip-print fade. She leaned back against Mycroft’s neck.

“Gold. I wonder why gold?”

**_It calls to me._ **

“Gold?”

**_Yes. The lure is feral, primitive, quite disturbing, actually._ **

“Supposed so, for someone that places such a premium on civilized behaviour. Just gold?”

**_Gold...and...you._ **

Lestrade smiled and leaned up to look Mycroft in the eye. “I call to you?”

Mycroft stretched her tongue to lick affectionately at Lestrade’s cheek. **_You call to me as...Mate._**

At the final word, Mycroft turned abruptly away from Lestrade, her face in shadow. Her tail thrashed.

Lestrade frowned and stood up. She walked around to face Mycroft. “What is it?”

**_Such a brutish word for someone who is a peer, a friend, lover, the object of such profound, sincere..._ **

“Mycroft!”

Mycroft looked at Lestrade.

 **_You’re surprised? It is a monstrous tragedy if I have failed to convey the depth and quality of_ _my...regard.._** Mycroft winced at the word ** _...for_ _you._ **

Lestrade waved dismissively. “Not that. I know you love me.”

**_You do?! Without...explicit declaration?_ **

“Yes, silly. You brought me here, didn’t you?” Lestrade indicated the world outside the cave. “What more declaration do I need?”

Mycroft stared at her.

“Do you really consider us _peers_?” asked Lestrade. She bit her lip.

Mycroft’s laughter took the form of billowing smoke. **_Yes, of course, we’re both humble civil servants._**

Lestrade levelled a look of incredulity at her.

**_Humility, of course, being more of a strength for you than me..._ **

“I am not your intellectual equal and you could have me transferred to Siberia if you wanted. How are we peers?”

**_We serve our government loyally. We believe in justice. We operate between masters and minions. And you excel at something I would not even attempt._ **

“What’s that?”

**_You deal with the public, my Dear. And inspire confidence in them. Everything I do, I do in shadow, for many reasons, but one of which is because I cannot tolerate the light. Or navigate it smoothly._ **

“So we’re...colleagues?” Lestrade beamed.

**_Yes._ **

Lestrade giggled and planted a quick peck on Mycroft’s nose. She surveyed Mycroft’s back. “Alright, may I look at your wings?”

**_Be my guest._ **

Lestrade crawled atop Mycroft’s back and stood between her outstretched wings. She caressed the soft, smooth skin as far as her arms would reach.

**_Gregory..._ **

“That good, huh?” Lestrade ran her tongue along the edge. Mycroft growled softly. Lestrade continued to stroke the scarlet webbing with two hands.

“You’re a fire- _drake_ ,” she said softly, looking at the cock between Mycroft’s legs. “How’s that feel?”

**_No different than without one._ **

“Really? Huh.” Lestrade purred. “So if I’m a wyvern’s mate, how does the wyvern feel about actually _mating_?”

 ** _The wyvern would mount you here and now without compunction, but I am not entirely a slave to my chimerical biology. The dimensions_** , Mycroft flicked her head and Lestrade slid to the ground, **_would allow for a very snug fit. And_** **_even given a state of extreme arousal—in both, let’s be frank—there’s a margin for error, and you might be harmed._**

“’Dimensions’? You know my ‘dimensions’?”

**_Better than I know my own, my Dear._ **

“Christ, John was right,” Lestrade mumbled. “Mycroft, I would never push for any act you found objectionable, but tell me this: what are you truly afraid of? Hurting me or losing control of yourself?” Lestrade’s voice and touch were soft as she ran a hand along Mycroft’s underbelly to her legs. After some moments, Mycroft answered with thick puffs of smoke.

**_The latter leading to the former is the nightmare scenario._ **

“You would stop if I asked. I have no doubts.”

**_That I would even attempt something that you would halt...I anticipate needs; I calculate risks; it’s my nature, Gregory, regardless of form._ **

Lestrade trailed two fingers up Mycroft’s shaft. It hardened and throbbed under the light touch. She shrugged and turned back to face Mycroft.

“You want me...and the gold?”

**_Yes._ **

Lestrade removed the pocket watch and dangled it under Mycroft’s nose. Mycroft sniffed and rumbled. She spit fire and smoke into the vaulted ceiling.

Lestrade laid the watch on the ground between them. Then she slowly peeled her layers off, jacket, sweater, shirts, vest, and bra, until she was bare from the waist up. She reached down and picked up the pocket watch.

“One of the advantages of being well-endowed, granted it isn’t one I’ve used in ages, is that you can _hold_ things.” She tucked the watch snugly in her cleavage and laid back on Mycroft’s tail, hands behind her head, eyebrows raised in invitation.

 ** _My Dear..._** Mycroft fanned more smoke from the space between them. Her eyes glittered like rubies and her entire body flushed a sparkling bronze. **_Are you seducing a dragon?_**

“No,” she grinned mischievously, “I am seducing a _wyvern_. Christ!”

 ** _Apologies for the imprecision._** Mycroft curled as tightly as her body allowed and extended her tongue to lick Lestrade’s breasts.

“I’m a- _ah-ah_ -lso channelling my inner Princess Leia. Don’t worry: you’re much more attractive than an alien slug and I shan’t strangle you with my slave chains.”

Mycroft’s tongue retracted, and she tilted her head.

“Christ! Mycroft! Jabba the Hut? _Return of the Jedi_? _Star Wars_? You’d think that both you and Sherlock never saw a film in your entire childhood.”

 ** _I will leave it to you to remedy my gaps in knowledge of popular culture._** Mycroft’s tongue extended anew, this time burrowing under Lestrade’s arm pit. Lestrade giggled and squirmed. Then she sat up and removed her boots and socks. "Film night. At the next oppotunity." Then she opened her trousers and pushed the entire ensemble off. She leaned back on Mycroft’s tail, twisted sideways and ran a hand up her own thigh and buttock provocatively.

“Sure you don’t want to mate?” she teased. “Because your Mate,” Lestrade moved forward onto one hand and knees, holding the watch to her chest, “she wants you, inside her, filling her, making her your own.” Mycroft turned so that she faced Lestrade. Their eyes locked. Then she broke their gaze to sniff at the wagon.

**_Get the lube. And lie back._ **

Lestrade scrambled to oblige. When she was on her back on the soft ground, Mycroft’s tongue was everywhere: ruffling her hair, brushing her face and neck, teasing her breasts, stroking her legs and nuzzling between them. “I want, I want,” panted Lestrade. “Christ! I want to touch you, too.”

 ** _Turn over first._** Lestrade flipped and felt Mycroft’s breath blow the dust from her back. Then her long tongue licked her from head to toe. Lestrade pushed her knees under herself and arched her back. Mycroft’s tongue slipped between her legs, and Lestrade rut with abandon, pushing up on her hands.

 ** _Now prepare yourself and me._** Lestrade whimpered and turned, returning to the pocket watch to its place between her breasts. Mycroft produced—from where Lestrade would never be sure—a smooth stone and padded it with discarded clothes. Lestrade leaned back and Mycroft moved closer and closer. Lestrade rubbed Mycroft’s smooth underbelly and watched the bursts of colour erupt like pyrotechnics on her skin. Mycroft’s wings flapped and torrents of fire lit the roof of the cave.

* * *

“ _I’ll never be able to drink Earl Grey without blushing_ ,” moaned Lestrade with a smile. The empty bottle of lubricant fell to the ground. Lestrade’s knees were wide open. She wiped her wet hands on Mycroft’s neck. Mycroft’s cock was slick and hard, leaking generously.

**_How delightful. I’ll ensure it’s on constant offer. Let me taste you, my Dear._**

Lestrade cried out when Mycroft’s tongue entered her. Mycroft’s upper lip found Lestrade’s clit and teased it gently. “Mycroft, Mycroft, _oh!_ ” Lestrade’s eyes fluttered open. She nodded to Mycroft and Mycroft rose up, straddling her. “Come inside, my beautiful beast. Your Mate is waiting.”

Mycroft entered Lestrade at a glacial pace, her lower half quivering with the strain. She scanned Lestrade’s face and body for any signs other than pleasure and welcome.

**_My vocabulary is inadequate. You are...exquisite, and being inside you, the closest thing to divinity an atheist is likely to feel. My precious, precious treasure. My resplendent jewel._ **

When Mycroft was half-sheathed, Lestrade groaned. “’S good. ‘S wonderful. Don’t stop, please. I love being full, Mycroft. Do you taste it? Do you smell it?”

**_I smell little else, other than my Mate’s desire and the mingling of our bodies._ **

Mycroft pushed into Lestrade, her claws digging into the ground. **_I’m inside you, Love._**

“’S good.” Lestrade looked up at her through half-lidded eyes. “I love you, Mycroft.” She reached up to touch Mycroft’s belly. Mycroft curled her head down, and Lestrade patted clumsily at her face.

“The only disadvantage to wyvern biology...”

**_Arms._ **

Lestrade hummed in agreement. “Stay, for a bit.”

**_Were that we could remain so, freeze this moment and all its sensations and sentiment, for an eternity._ **

Lestrade smiled and closed her eyes. Mycroft’s tongue found the pocket watch and gave it and Lestrade’s breasts a gentle lick. After some moments, Lestrade’s eyes opened.

“Now, move. And fuck your Mate properly.”

The quivering in Mycroft’s legs turned to full tremors.

 ** _Gregory..._** Clouds of smoke filled the air. Lestrade read her lover’s face.

“If I’m the one being penetrated, why do you feel so vulnerable?”

**_Now who's the mind reader? Exquisite._ **

“S’okay. I’m okay. Now, _move_.” Lestrade arched her hips minutely in invitation, which Mycroft answered with gentle thrusting. “Yes, yes, yes,” panted Lestrade as Mycroft’s pace quickened; she clasped her hands behind her head. Her breasts heaved with Mycroft’s movements.

**_My Mate, my Love, my Treasure, my Jewel._ **

Mycroft came with shrieking roar that echoed through the tunnels. Her body was a uniform gold from the tip of her horns to the tip of her tail.

“So warm, so good, Mycroft. Stay, for a bit. If you can, if you want to...” Lestrade’s voice was weak.

 ** _As if I could do anything other than your bidding._** They stayed locked together, but as soon as Mycroft felt her cock threaten to soften, she eased out of Lestrade. Lestrade rolled over onto her side. “’S good,” she murmured. The pocket watch slipped to the ground. Mycroft pushed the rock away and curled around her, softly licking her spine and the space behind her ears. She stroked Lestrade’s hair with her tongue.

**_My Dear, it would be good to wash._ **

Lestrade mumbled, but didn’t stir. Shifting both of them closer to the water, Mycroft curled her tail sharply and lifted a discarded vest with the tip. She dipped the vest in the water and then blew smoke on the sodden fabric.

**_Open._ **

Lestrade eased her legs apart, and Mycroft gently placed the vest between them. Lestrade reached a hand down and began to clean herself. When she finished, she threw the vest aside with a wet _plop!_ and inched closer to Mycroft. Mycroft located the blanket among the discarded clothes, and Lestrade wrapped it tightly around her body. Mycroft drew the rest of the clothes closer, forming a nest-like circle around Lestrade's curled figure. Lestrade’s eyelids closed like damask curtains, and her limbs sagged. She snuggled against Mycroft’s belly and slurred, “Think I could have half-dragon babies from this?”

**_No._ **

There was a trace of disappointment in Lestrade’s hum of reply. Mycroft shook her head slowly.

**_Rest, my Queen._ **

Lestrade nodded and closed her eyes.

“Good night, Mycroft.”

**_Good night._ **

* * *

Mycroft did not sleep. She watched Lestrade and reflected on the events of the night. When she sensed the impending dawn, she carefully removed herself from Lestrade’s side and even more carefully collected the pocket watch from where it had fallen. With tail and claws, she dug a deep, narrow hole on the far side of the lagoon and dropped the watch into it. Then she covered the opening and returned to Lestrade. She allowed herself the luxury of respite and when she opened her eyes anew found she was in the same pyjamas and socks of the previous evening.

“Mycroft!”

“Yes,” said Mycroft, grinning.

Lestrade rolled over hugged her tightly, planting a hard kiss on her cheek. “It’s nice to have your arms back! Happy Birthday!”

Mycroft chuckled. “Thank you. It has been a _most_ memorable birthday.”

“Not over yet!” Lestrade dressed. “Take this,” she said, handing Mycroft her jacket. “It’s cold. I’ll be okay until we get back to the house.” They packed the wagon. “Mycroft! Where’s the watch!? I lost it!” Lestrade looked frantically around their feet.

“It’s here,” said Mycroft, patting the pocket of the jacket. “I have decided to donate it, anonymously, to an appropriate museum. For me, the cost of security and insurance alone would far outstrip the sentimental value.”

Lestrade frowned. “Oh...okay. Think you will change again? Maybe next year?”

“I don’t know. But having it in my possession might trigger that or some other—perhaps even more disconcerting—phenomenon.”

Lestrade shrugged and then nodded. “Shall we?” Mycroft nodded. Lestrade grinned. “Your chariot awaits,” she said, nodding to the wagon. Mycroft huffed. “Your socks will get dirty otherwise.” They locked eyes for a moment and, then Mycroft acquiesced, sitting down and folding her legs inside. “I’ve still got a quite a bit to sort through,” she said as they made their way to the entrance.

“And I have a cake to prepare!” cried Lestrade.

* * *

Night found the pair once again, damp-skinned, heavy-breathing, naked limbs intertwined. Lestrade moaned as Mycroft’s tightly compressed hand pushed inside her cunt.

“ _Oh! So full, so right, Mycroft!"_

“Your wyvern will mate you...whenever,” Mycroft kissed Lestrade’s jaw softly, “...wherever, however, you desire.”

Mycroft rotated her wrist minutely, and Lestrade’s hums turned to whimpers.

“And you’re getting a birthday cake every year for the rest of your natural life,” whispered Lestrade as Mycroft licked the icing from her shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
